


you can take off your skin in the cannibal glow

by ElasticElla



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Dom/sub Undertones, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mild Gore, Vampire Ryan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 12:20:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13811076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: Ryan refuses to believe it at first, despite the mounting evidence.(Shane would be so proud.)





	you can take off your skin in the cannibal glow

**Author's Note:**

> title from mcr's the sharpest lives because i already used the vampires will never hurt you title on another fic lolololol  
> for zin's prompt, hope you like it babe
> 
> (i tumble ^.^)

Ryan refuses to believe it at first, despite the mounting evidence. (Shane would be so proud.) His apartment is set up with motion sensors and sound recorders, a steady comfort that nothing has ever followed him home. (Something he knows Shane is less proud of, and overly amused by.)

So when he starts being cold all the time, and nothing out of the ordinary shows up in his recordings, he blames it on his circulation becoming worse. He hasn’t been working out as often recently, caught up at buzzfeed, and that’s probably all it is. The sunlight beginning to not burn per ce but to become sharp pinpricks of awareness everywhere it touches? Probably related to the worsening circulation thing. Like his skin is thinner or some shit. And the sudden preoccupation with blood is probably a side effect of his work. Ryan’s been researching a ton of fucked up shit for years, really he’s just glad it didn’t come out in a worse way. 

The point is: vampires are fake like witches or nessie, and Ryan sure as hell isn’t one. 

(If he takes any relief in seeing his reflection in the mirror or noting that his skin is still a soft bronze, it’s just vanity. Really.)

By day four of the weirdness, Ryan gives in and goes to webmd. 

WebMD is a charlatan hack. Not only is there no possible ‘I sort of want to drink blood’ symptom, but inputting the other two gets him: migraine headaches, generalized anxiety disorder, and the plague. And while okay, he can admit he has more anxiety than the average person, that’s nothing new. 

Whatever. He’s going in to work today, he’s going to research those dancing French people Shane loves so much, and he’s going to have a normal day. 

.

Anything can become normal, he remembers reading that somewhere. Sure enough, Ryan starts wearing sweatshirts and baseball caps more often, eating more rare meat, and life moves on. Shane jokes that he misses being a college bro, and Ryan likes that excuse a hell of a lot more than awkward shrugging and _fuck if I know man_. 

Reality comes rudely crashing in the form of a cut. More specifically: him and Shane are camped out in the Cathy Cabin, a tiny shack in the middle of a lake, on an island just large enough for the house. It’s only a single room, and Ryan’s twitching at every noise, hates how loud a seemingly tranquil lake can be. 

In his defense the sudden screech sounded _just_ like a woman wailing ( _not_ an owl for fuck’s sake), and he didn’t mean to trip over the chair and into Shane. It sends both of them toppling to the floor, Shane cushioning his fall.

Shane isn’t angry though, laughs from underneath him, lightly slapping his shoulder. “Two entire pieces of furniture in this tiny place and you’re still a klutz.”

There’s a light scratch underneath Shane’s jaw- he’s definitely going to need a tetanus shot- but all Ryan can focus on is the drop of blood blooming at the end. It doesn’t smell like blood, isn’t coppery like he expects. 

“-up, your elbows-”

Ryan leans in closer, trying to place it- his mouth falling over the cut without permission. 

“Ryan…? I think we should uh, talk about this buddy.” 

It’s indescribable. Ryan laps up what little blood there is, forcing the cut open deeper. The closest comparison he can think of is if energy had a taste, it would be this. Ryan swallows, nuzzling at Shane’s neck until everything goes black. 

.

Ryan wakes up a half-hour later, Shane’s tears splashing on his face. 

“See a ghost?” Ryan jokes, and Shane _yelps_. (God, Ryan hopes one of the standing cameras caught that.)

“You’re alive, fuck I was so worried and TJ isn’t bringing the boat back until morning and our cells have no damn service out here and- you’re alive.” 

Shane’s big head is totally blocking his vision, upside-down and it hits Ryan suddenly that the comfy place he’s laying is in his lap, and then Shane’s kissing him. Salt on his lips, and feeling warmer than the very sun, Shane’s _kissing_ him. 

He breaks for air early, and Ryan’s tempted to chase those lips, but is curious first. “What- why did you think I was dead?” 

Shane flushes, tugs a hand through his hair, “I uh, your heart stopped beating after you passed out. Fluke, like I bet-” He stops talking abruptly, hand tensing on Ryan’s motionless chest. 

And fuck, he really is a vampire. 

There is of course one dramatic silver lining to whatever the fuck has happened to his (un)life, “Shaniacs lose forever.”

Shane’s belly vibrates against his head in silent laughter, “Maybe it’s a medical condition? Isn’t there like a human disease vampirism?” 

Ryan snorts, “Pretty sure those people have heartbeats.” 

“Yeah.”

“You’re taking this pretty well.” 

“As long as you don’t go to chow town on my neck again, we’re good. Consent is important Ryan.” 

“Fuck, sorry about that,” Ryan says, bringing a hand up to brush against Shane’s cut. It’s already healed, a clear imprint of fangs and holy shit. Looking at the fresh scar is somehow more real than anything else, and his stomach squirms at the mark. 

“Vampires,” Shane mutters, thrumming his fingers against Ryan’s chest. “Man, I would not have bet on them being real.” 

“Hey! Maybe I can see ghosts now!” Ryan exclaims, sitting up to look around the room. 

Shane snorts, “See an old seafaring woman in here?” 

“Dammit.” 

“Hey maybe she’s just not here. We could go back to the Sallie House?” 

“Oh go fuck yourself.” 

Shane hems and haws a bit, pretending to think it over. “I’d rather you do that.” 

Ryan looks at the decrepit bed, and then the cameras, groaning. “Fuck I’m gonna have to edit so much out.” 

“You could leave it,” Shane teases. “Proof of the supernatural. I’m sure the government wouldn’t steal you away for at least a month.” 

Ryan wheezes, “That’s how long it takes?” 

“Oh yeah, there’s a ton of paperwork to process. Gotta do everything through the proper channels.” 

“Once we’re home?” Ryan asks, a bit more tentatively. 

Shane’s hand comes up to cup his neck, _fuck_ his hands are so big, “Yeah.” 

And Shane kisses him again, and Ryan doesn’t give a damn if he has to do way more exposition to make up for so little usable footage. 

.

Once they’re home, Ryan gets caught up in editing and doing some more research for another alternative theory. The finished product will still clearly be more focused on them talking than actual footage, but maybe people will blame it on the location only having one room. Then Shane’s busy with helping Sara and Jen for their new vid, and the week is over. 

While Ryan can still eat, he doesn’t really like it anymore. Liquids are nice for their flavors, but they don’t really impart any energy. Instead he says he’s going back to a soup diet when anyone asks, primarily ‘tomato’ soup for vitamins a and c. The local butcher is happy to give him excess pig’s blood, probably thinking it’s for his videos, and while it’s a little gamier than human blood it doesn’t gross him out when he thinks about it. One of the nice things about working at buzzfeed is not a single person questions his new diet. Sunlight luckily doesn’t burn him as the legends imply, and garlic does no more than basil. Also: he turns up on camera, that would have been one way to kill his career. 

On Saturday night, Shane’s finally coming over, and Ryan’s cleaned up his apartment. Ryan did the trash for the first time in like a month, and he shoved all his dirty clothes deep into the closet. He’s removed all the audio recorders, though he did leave the motion detectors. Just in case. 

He can’t decide what type of background music to put on, or any netflix show- nor does he really want this to turn into a five hour binge session of whatever show they pick. Shane would definitely laugh at jazz, but maybe like ninety’s r&b? 

He’s debating between a mix or an album when the doorbell rings, and that’s new. Ryan opens the door, revealing a Shane dressed up in slacks and a button down, and he can’t help grinning- god he’s cute. 

“Hey, come in.” 

Shane does with a smile, “Thanks, I wanted to respect your new way of life’s threshold invitations.” 

Ryan rolls his eyes, “Shut up dude.” 

“Mhmm,” Shane presses a six-pack forward first, some Dos Equis nice, and then a piece of paper. 

Ryan scans it, a clean bill of health from the local clinic. “I would have believed you, you know.” 

Shane shrugs, heading into the kitchen to grab an opener. “Yeah, but the lady printed it out, so.” 

“Human me was clean,” Ryan says, the distinction still odd, and he places both on the counter. “I dunno if dying changed anything.” 

“Sexually transmitted supernaturalness?” Shane teases, passing Ryan an opened bottle. “I’ll take my chances.” 

Ryan can’t say he minds the prospect, if the whole immortal thing is true- he wants Shane around for it. No matter how selfish that may be. 

Shane’s eyebrows come together then, “Can you still get it up? Like you have no blood flow, how does that even work?” 

Ryan sputters, beer spraying over the counter. “ _Dude_.” 

“What? It’s a valid question. I’m not saying you _have_ to fuck me using your dick, but I’m curious what’s on the menu.” 

“I dunno,” Ryan says, and honestly he hadn’t really thought about it in the past week. The idea of sex kinda felt like food, an unnecessary past appreciation. Before he mostly jerked off if he woke up with a boner, or had a fantasy in the shower- neither of which had happened since the change. 

Then again, now that Shane’s before him, he’s very curious. 

Shane nods seriously, “Experimenting then. For science.” 

Ryan laughs, puts his beer down and pulls Shane down to kiss him. (They’re definitely going to be horizontal soon, this man is way too damn tall.)

.

Shane just barely fits on his bed, his heels at the end of it, and if they keep this up, Ryan’s investing in a new bed. Inside his bureau’s first drawer there’s an old harness from his ex Helen, and at its loosest setting it _might_ fit around his hips, along with a nice curved dildo from even before that. For now though, he just grabs the lube- water-based in case the silicone does come out to play later. (Or maybe he could just use his fist and _fuck_ yeah, Ryan definitely still has a libido.)

They’re both already naked, and Ryan doesn’t care if tonight feels fast, it feels like they’ve been building up to this for years. Joining him back on the bed, Ryan kisses up Shane’s sternum, his breath fluttering at each press. 

It’s all it takes for Shane to become hard, and Ryan pushes back against him, nipping when Shane groans. 

“Yeah, you should uh- you should bite me,” Shane says, his hands pulling Ryan higher up. Everywhere Shane is feels like fire, his warmth seeping into him only as long as they touch. 

Ryan processes the question slow, desire shooting through him. “You sure? I haven’t since that night. On a living being I mean.” 

“I trust you,” Shane says easily, fingertips circling his hips. “Just not so high up this time, yeah?” 

“Okay, okay,” Ryan says, thumbing the middle of his shoulder. “Here?” 

“Dinner is served,” Shane jokes. 

“You’re such an asshole,” Ryan says, leaning in. 

“An asshole you wanna-” Shane starts, and Ryan bites down. 

The only thing sweeter than Shane’s blood, is his words collapsing into moans, echoing around the bedroom. His fangs slip deeper into Shane, slicing smoothly through, and he should learn how to control those. Ryan presses against him as he drinks, and oh, he can get an erection. The actual mechanics have to be investigated later, his entire body thrumming with need and want and Shane. Fuck, he feels like he just ran a few miles, high on endorphins and ready for so much more. 

He pulls back, lapping at the cut that’s already healed- another thing to test out later. Below him, Shane looks even more pale than usual, eyes shut, but his hips still slowly rutting up against him. 

“Hey, you okay?” Ryan asks. 

His eyes seem to glow when he opens them, and he pulls Ryan in for a messy kiss, seemingly uncaring of the blood coating his mouth. 

“Oh yeah,” Shane says when he breaks the kiss, fingers running through Ryan’s hair. 

“You need some juice?” Ryan asks, and Shane laughs. 

“Did you fucking read some blood play how to manual?” 

Ryan’s cheeks warm and fuck, he was hoping blushing was no longer possible. 

“You _did_!” Shane says with a wide grin. “That’s so sweet of you baby.” 

“Fuck off, it seemed prudent,” Ryan mumbles, scratching over Shane’s nipples. 

Shane grunts, back arching up. “Later.”

“Hmmmm, what’s that?” Ryan teases, circling a nipple with a cold finger. 

Shane’s hands are tight on his hips, pushing, and just like that they’re swapped places, Shane grinning down at him. 

“I wanna get fucked this century Bergara.” 

“Y’know more than one necrophilia joke comes to mind-” Ryan starts, completely losing his train of thought when he figures out what Shane’s hand is doing. Somehow he missed the click of the lube bottle, but the sounds of Shane opening himself up are loud enough- dirty and slick. 

Holding Shane’s hips up, he can see just a tease of Shane’s fingers fucking himself, and Ryan can’t lift him for long, overwhelmed and dizzy with lust. Dropping him, a satisfying weight, and he grabs Shane’s ass, feeling for him. 

“’m good,” Shane says, wiping his hand on the sheets and Ryan is _so_ making him do laundry later. (That speckles of Shane’s blood stained the top earlier is irrelevant.)

Ryan hasn’t had anything up his ass in a few months, but he’s pretty sure more prep is a good thing even if he does wanna slam up into him. “You sure, I can-”

Shane realigns himself, sitting down on Ryan- who doesn’t know any thoughts beyond pleasure, sputtering out a mix of curses and Shane’s name. It’s like he didn’t know how very cold he was until this moment, encased in sweltering heat.

“You have an ice dick,” Shane says, laughing, his hips rocking up and down. 

“S-sorry?” Ryan groans out, thrusting up. 

“Nah, it’s good. Stay still baby,” Shane adds, hands pressing his shoulders down. 

“Fuck, okay,” Ryan says, fingers loose on his thighs, and Shane takes that as an invitation to pull up nearly all the way, only the head of his cock still inside him. It’s almost painful: the pure heat contrasting with the sudden deathly cold, how very much he wants to say _fuck it_ and flip them around, burying himself in Shane. 

Shane doesn’t move, every second making it harder to resist, and then he starts touching himself. His ass clenches with every stroke and Ryan’s nails must be biting into skin with how tightly he’s gripping Shane’s thighs. 

He doesn’t move though, staring up at Shane in wonder. If someone had told him this would be his afterlife, he would have laughed them out of the room.

“Fuck Ry, I’m gonna-” Shane groans, coming all over his chest. He looks so fucking gorgeous like that, letting go. Shane slumps down on his dick, ass shaking with aftershocks, and that’s it- Ryan’s orgasm slamming into him. It’s dry, but not in a painful way like he just came too many times in one night, and he’s distantly thankful for that.

“No ejaculate,” Shane mumbles as Ryan gently pulls himself out, cuddling into Shane’s chest. Too late Ryan realizes he just made them both very sticky, too lazy to care. 

“Yeah,” Ryan agrees, “weirdo.” 

“Not blood though, I was worried for a sec.” 

“You thought-” Ryan wheezes, “thank god it isn’t.” 

And surrounded by Shane, his entire front bathing in warmth, it doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep. 

.

When the warmth leaves, Ryan wakes up, eyes adjusting to the dark room quickly. Shane’s attempting to tiptoe out, completely failing as his knee whacks the desk. 

“What do you need?” Ryan asks. 

“I’m just getting a glass of water, go back to sleep.”

Ryan sits up at that though, “Nah, I can get it for you.” 

Shane rolls his eyes, “Pfft, I just finished navigating your room. Besides, I wanna stretch my legs and clean up.” 

Ryan’s gaze dips down, and fuck Shane hasn’t put any clothes on, his legs looking longer than ever. 

Fuck, Ryan’s never going to not be turned on at work again. Ryan’s debating if he should join him in the kitchen or not when he hears a thump and muttered swears. 

Rushing through he discovers Shane holding his toe, the neon orange motion detector lights flashing. 

“I feel like a bad criminal,” Shane complains hopping in place. 

Chuckling, Ryan shuts the detectors off, hitting the normal lights. “We can’t all be Ricky Goldsworths.” 

“Oof bright,” Shane says, dropping his foot. 

“Sorry, I forgot those were on- they’re on a schedule.” 

“Of course they are, you nerd,” Shane says, heading into the bathroom. 

In the kitchen, Ryan pours a glass of water and another of juice in case Shane’s feeling up to it. Then he grabs some cheez-its, and Shane still isn’t out yet, so some baby carrots too. (Neither of them Ryan liked even while human, and pretty much all the food in his fridge is for Shane’s benefit. Pudding is close enough to a liquid to still taste good though.) And ranch dressing, and blue cheese just in case- and fuck, somehow he feels more nervous now than he did before Shane got here. 

Shane ambles out, dick and arms swaying, and just like that his nerves drain away replaced with amusement. 

“Oh ho, trying to fatten me up I see,” he says at the spread, plopping onto a chair and reaching for the cheez-its. 

“Be quicker next time, what did you powder your nose?” Ryan teases. (It brings to mind all the times he’s seen Shane in make up and that is not a road to be going down during their post-coital repose. His dick already twitching at the thought of dark lipstick.)

“Whatever,” Shane says around a mouthful of crackers. “Next time you can clean up the lube-y mess from your ass.” 

“You’re on big guy,” Ryan says, and Shane gulps, pushing the bowl away. 

“I’m good.” 

Ryan’s still laughing when Shane pulls him in for a kiss, teeth clacking. And as Ryan kisses the artificial cheddar off his breath, knowing he wouldn’t do that for anyone else, it’s just as clear that he loves Shane.


End file.
